The fragile barrier between the two of them
by whathobertie
Summary: After her dad's confession, Emily seeks out a wounded Gillian. (Post 'Killer App' Fic) Gillian & Emily with a hint of Cal/Gillian, drama. Written for McBreezy's LTM Fic Challenge. Prompt: Gillian/Emily – Flower.


**TITLE:** The fragile barrier between the two of them**  
GENRE:** Drama**  
CHARACTERS:** Gillian, Emily, Cal**  
PAIRING:** Gillian & Emily with a hint of Cal/Gillian**  
RATING:** PG**  
SPOILERS:** None**  
WORDS:** 800**  
SUMMARY:** After her dad's confession, Emily seeks out a wounded Gillian. (Post _'Killer App'_ Fic)  
**A/N: **Written for McBreezy's LTM Fic Challenge. Prompt: Gillian/Emily – Flower.

* * *

The birds were singing their sweet sad songs, circling in figures not even an artist could have invented. A silent breeze was rustling through the branches of trees that seemed to be waiting for the better days. The warmer ones, the brighter ones.

She was sitting on an old wooden bench, a rusty nail right next to her reminding Gillian of the sorrow that stung her heart. It was a week now. Seven days. One hundred seventy two hours and she kept on counting. She too was waiting for the better days to come.

The service was simple, the burial intimate. She didn't know if she was welcome at all, so she kept her distance at first. After some minutes she was invited to join the circle of friends and family, but she felt more out of place than ever before in her life. Maybe they could forgive her—or never even blamed her in the first place—but she couldn't.

The tears clouded her eyes when she was towering over the open grave. Looking into the dark hole she felt like falling deeper and deeper, never hitting the bottom, just falling. She thought of necklaces and stuffed animals; and of laughter that would never be heard again.

When it was over she couldn't breathe anymore. She remembered shaking some hands, faking some smiles and mumbling some apologies, but it was all in a haze.

Now she was sitting here on this bench, the rusty nail slowly digging into her hand, so it would take away the pain from her heart. In the distance she could still see the grave, but it felt better to watch it from here. Somehow safer. She sat there for minutes before she suddenly wasn't alone anymore.

Emily sat down next to her, a single flower in her hand—held almost like a fragile barrier between the two of them. "I'm really sorry about Claire," she offered with heartfelt honesty.

Gillian nodded, attempting a brave smile. She was truly moved Emily was here. "Thank you, sweetheart."

They sat in silence for quite some time, as there weren't any words left or even appropriate. The birds were singing, the wind rustling, life went on. Just not Claire's.

After a while Emily quietly cleared her throat. "This one's for you." She handed her the flower.

Surprise crossed Gillian's face. "Oh." She looked at the beautiful specimen and studied it from various angles. "How did you know that white lilies are my favorite flowers?"

"I didn't. Dad helped me pick it."

"He did?"

"Seems he knows." A warm smile spread on Emily's face and she averted her eyes to look in the distance.

Gillian followed her gaze and saw Cal putting down an arrangement of flowers next to the grave. White lilies, just like the one in her hand. Somehow she didn't think he would come. They hadn't talked about this. In fact they hadn't talked a whole lot this last week. Silent touches and worried looks had seemed to be their latest mode of communication.

She watched him taking time to arrange and rearrange the flowers, smoothing out his black suit after getting up, and taking some silent moments for remembrance. She knew he was angry; she didn't quite know he was sad as well.

Emily watched him too. "Either he knows or he's just very good at picking something random," she mused.

"Cannot say that necessarily holds true for the past on every occasion." Gillian smiled, even though it was a little tense.

Emily joined in before getting serious again. "Well, he picked you. That was a good choice, I would say. He picked you for the Lightman Group," she added, "and as a friend, I guess."

She didn't know what to answer, so she didn't answer anything at all. She just sought him out in the distance again. "Do you think he'll come over?"

"No. He's afraid of ruining it all. Saying something wrong and making you cry again." Her tone was light, almost joking, but there was a gravity in her eyes that indicated some truth in her words.

"Tell him it's okay. I'm quite used to it," she said, joking really, but maybe not.

Emily chuckled, but it was more sad than amused. It took her a while to speak again.

"You know, he wanted me to decide which flowers to bring, but I just couldn't. I didn't know which ones were appropriate or which ones Claire would have liked. So dad being his usual self got impatient and said I should just take those, so we _wouldn't be_ _stuck in this bloody flower shop forever_." She pointed to the lily in Gillian's hand. "His words, not mine."

Emily got up, still looking at the flower and then slowly taking her eyes up to Gillian's again. "I think he picked very well."

With those words she left, went over to Cal and gave him a tight hug. Gillian watched them, the flower now in her hand where the rusty nail used to be.

**THE END**


End file.
